


Shoot-outs and First Aid Kits

by MsDaHedgehog



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Keenler - Freeform, Major Character Injury, brief mentions of past drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 22:21:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11999109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsDaHedgehog/pseuds/MsDaHedgehog
Summary: Guns, FBI agents and wanted fugitives were never a good combination. Add finding said fugitives hiding out in your apartment preparing to do field surgery to that and you have a very messy situation on your hands. The question is: do you report it, or do you keep their whereabouts a secret only you know about and allow them to slip away?OrRessler arrives back at his apartment after a confrontation with The Concierge of Crime and his former partner to find one of them rooting through his kitchen cupboards and the other withering in pain on his bed.





	Shoot-outs and First Aid Kits

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on Fanfiction.net months ago. A little one-shot from Liz's time on the run.

It had been a long day to say the least – and by far the most trying of Resslers career. All he wanted to do now was go home, drown himself in beer and go to bed but having just been involved in a agent verses fugitive shoot-out meant a bench load of paperwork to complete first. Ressler couldn't believe that this was his life now, that he'd been placed in the position of chasing his partner – _former_ partner as he was constantly reminded by those around him. Four months ago he'd been working alongside Elizabeth Keen but now he was hunting her down as one of the FBIs most wanted. He was tasked with bringing her in by any means necessary... if needs be, use extreme force, they'd told him.

 

He closed his eyes and leant against the trunk of his car; sweat was building around his brow from the heat and physical exertion of the last couple of hours. They'd received a tip that wanted fugitives Reddington and Keen were due to meet a contact at a warehouse and Resslers team had immediately dispatched to the location with the apprehension of finally catching the two. Only... it hadn't exactly gone according to plan.

 

Somehow, Reddington and his contact had been tipped off that the FBI were closing in and he and Liz had attempted to escape, only to end up running directly in the firing line. Ressler had demanded they lower their weapons, but of course, they didn't. He couldn't be sure, thinking back now, who had fired the first shot – all he seemed to remember is his team taking cover behind their cars, with Reddington and Liz retreating back to the building. Shots were fired until the man who had exited the building with the two fugitives had been take down and arrested, allowing for Ressler and Samar to move in and breach the building. To their disdain, however, the building was empty – a small pool of blood on the floor by the entrance to a lower level.

 

They were awaiting conformation to who the blood belonged to – and Ressler prayed it wasn't Keens. Samar was currently on the phone to Aram, demanding to know if the results were in yet and no doubt they would be. Ressler watched as she ended the call and walked slowly back over to him.

 

“Ressler, the lab has confirmed that the blood we found in the warehouse matches wanted fugitive Elizabeth Keen. Techs estimate that the volume found is not enough to indicate life threatening injuries, but enough to warrant immediate medical attention.”

 

Ressler tried his hardest not to choke on the bile rising in his throat. Liz had been shot. His best friend had been shot and there was nothing he could do but hope she made it to someone before she become seriously ill...

 

He pushed himself away from his car, unstrapping his bullet proof vest and tossing it through the open door. He couldn't do it, not today, he needed a break from being acting director... he needed a break from hunting his best friend.

 

“Samar, I want every hospital and medical centre in the city on high alert. If Keen needs medical attention as urgently as the lab techs think, she'll have to be seen somewhere.”

 

“Reddington's extensive use of resources means he probably has a dozen places underground that they can go to, and an army more of people who can help them. They wouldn't go somewhere so open and obvious.” She raised an eyebrow as he went to get behind the wheel. “Where are you going? We have a job to do.”

 

“I need -” He stopped himself. He wouldn't admit to her that he couldn't do his job right now, that he no longer had it in him to be an FBI agent anymore. “I need to change, go back to the office and do my report on what happened today. You can handle things on your own from here.”

 

“Wait -”

 

He didn't give her a chance to finish before slamming the door closed in her face. He watched, as he drove away, in the rear view mirror; she had her cell back in hand and he had no doubt she would call Aram again now that he'd left so suddenly. Their partnership was something like what he'd had with Liz, though he was pretty sure they had long since crossed the friendship barrier. Neither had admitted it, but there was something new there. He and Liz hadn't crossed that line, though they had come close a few times; late night drinks in a bar after a hard days work turned in to her crashing at his place or he at her motel but they always seemed to stop themselves before anything actually happened. It was something that Ressler now regretted... he reckoned they'd never get the chance now.

 

Ressler drove home – keeping to the speed limit but desperate to reach the confines of his apartment. He'd go back to the office and write his report... but not until it was well after his team had left for their own homes. The looks they gave him made him feel uneasy, like they personally didn't trust him but had no choice other than to follow his orders. It was understandable; most of them believed Liz was guilty and, given that he had been her partner, thought that he should have known her true identity and been able to stop her.

 

His neighbourhood was far busier than he had seen it in a long while. Checking his watch he saw that the schools had long since let out and most people were returning from work. He usually didn't return home until the roads were silent, and it was the same when he let for work in the mornings. He parked in the underground parking lot of his apartment complex and took the elevator up to the fourth floor. He liked his floor; not too high up, not too low down. He exited and trudged to his door, stopping when he noticed the minute amount of blood on the handle.

 

Ressler removed his gun from his belt – he hadn't left the blood there. He pressed his ear against the door, listening for any movements or sounds from within and faintly heard someone speaking. He couldn't hear who, or what they were saying, but he definitely didn't remember giving _anyone_ permission to enter his apartment. As slowly, and quietly, as he could, Ressler opened the unlocked door and let himself in. He kept his back against the wall as he sneaked through his own apartment. There were a few more scattered spots of blood leading to the living room but, as he went to continue on, he heard someone rustling about in his kitchen. Raising his gun further up in front of him, Ressler turned in to the kitchen and came face to face with the man going through his cupboards.

 

“Ah, Donald, you're home early, good. Pleasantries later, right now I need to know where you keep your first aid kit?”

 

“ _Reddington_?” Ressler spoke through gritted teeth and lowered his gun back to its holster. “What the _hell_ are you doing here?”

 

“Isn't it obvious?” Reddington gestured out the door. “Lizzie is in dire need of a bullet removal; all my people are reluctant to help and, unfortunately, Mr Kaplan chose this week to attend a wedding in the Maldives. Now, Donald, first aid kit?”

 

Liz was here to... and who the hell was Mr Kaplan? “Trunk of my car.”

 

“Why on Earth is it in there and not up here?” Reddington didn't wait for an answer before strolling past him. Ressler followed and was led towards her own bedroom. “Dembe, go down to Agent Ressler's car. In the trunk you will find a first aid kit. I will get us towels and then we can patch up Lizzie and be on our way. Donald, keys?”

 

Ressler held out his keys, Dambe taking them as he exited the room. He almost didn't want to step over the threshold... he didn't want to see Liz in pain. He only managed to reach the doorway before stopping dead again. Liz was laying on his bed (on his side no less) with her left leg propped up by a few pillows. A chill ran down his spine – she'd been shot in the same place he had almost two years ago.

 

“It's not as bad as yours was for you, Donald. It's a clean wound and not very deep.” Reddington had known exactly what he'd been thinking. Ressler couldn't tell whether Liz had passed out or not and, like always, Reddington was one step ahead of him. “She's sleeping; exhaustion, blood loss but the powerful sleeping tablets I found in your bathroom cabinet worked wonders in knocking her out. Having trouble sleeping?”

 

“Only since I got promoted.” Ressler was barely paying attention to Reddington, instead focusing solely on the woman in his bed. It was the first tome he'd seen her up close in months; she had bags under her eyes and she'd lost a considerable amount of weight. The question that he needed to ask was burning in his mind. “Was it me?”

 

Reddington didn't need to ask for clarification of the question. He stood next to Ressler and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I don't know, Donald. I could have it tested, I will have it tested, but it might be better if you didn't know.”

 

Ressler shook his head. “I need to.” Reddington sighed, nodded and left the room in search of towels. Liz groaned and whimpered in her sleep. Ressler knew all too well the pain she was in – even if she was knocked out on pills. He was at her side instantly, mindful of her leg, and grasped her hand. A few tears escaped from beneath her closed lids but she didn't wake. Without some form of anaesthetic she'd be in a remarkable amount of pain and mostly, if not fully, aware as Reddington removed the bullet lodged in her leg. He could hear the man rustling about in his hall closet looking for towels, he would've helped him but he didn't want to leave Liz now.

 

Five minutes later, Reddington strolled back in to the room accompanied by Dembe, each baring an armful of towels. Dembe, also carrying the first aid kit, deposited his pile of towels on the end of the bed before moving to Liz. He held the pair of kitchen scissors that Ressler owned and began to cut the material of the jeans Liz was wearing, from the very top of her thigh to her ankle. Reddington was right – it was no where near as bad as the injury he had sustained.

 

Liz whimpered again and Ressler rubbed soothing circles on to her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. Reddington sterilised a long pair of tweezers, along with a needle, before turning to Ressler.

 

“Donald, this will be almost unbearable for Lizzie; you and Dembe will have to do your best to keep her still while I remove the bullet and sew the wound. You'll also have to suppress her screams.”

 

Dembe moved into position at Liz's feet, while Ressler almost laid on the bed next to her, draping one arm across her upper chest, just below her shoulders. He let his hand hover over her mouth, ready to clamp it down when she made too much noise.

 

“Get ready.”

 

Ressler tightened his grip at Reddington's words... and the next ten minutes were some of the worst of his life.

 

Liz had screamed out almost instantly; still partially under the force of the sleeping tablets, Ressler was pretty sure she was in no way actually aware of what was going on. He hated every second of having to hold her down, and tried in vain to comfort her. Her muffled screams against his hand brought tears to his eyes - was this his doing?

 

“It'll be over in a minute, Liz. I swear it'll be over.”

 

“Got it, Lizzie,” Reddington held up the bullet pinched between the claws of the tweezers. “I'm just going to stitch the wound, then I'll find you something to dull the pain. A temporary solution until Mr Kaplan can get to us.” He deposited the bullet in to a empty glass jar he'd found in the kitchen and threaded the needle while he spoke.

 

Ressler gritted his teeth, knowing what he was about the say would probably get him questioned far more than he'd like. “Reddington, bottom draw of my dresser, under the sweats, there's an almost empty bottle of pretty damn strong pain medication... Prescription, not over the counter.”

 

“Ah.” Reddington carefully stitched the wound on Liz's leg as best he could before heading to Resslers dresser and looking where told. He was back at Liz's side mere seconds later. “Lizzie? Lizzie, my dear, I need you to open your eyes and take these for me. The pain will lessen but in no means disappear.”

 

Ressler helped lift Liz's shoulders up so she could swallow the pills with a mouthful of water, but she didn't open her eyes, instead keeping them closed tightly in pain. She whimpered when she placed too much pressure on her injured leg and fresh tears leaked from beneath her closed eye lids. Ressler ran his thumb along her cheeks, wiping away the trails of wet. He kissed her forehead lightly – he hated seeing her in pain like this.

 

“Donald, let's allow Dembe to tend to Lizzie for a while, I believe it's time for a drink.”

 

Reluctantly, Ressler pushed up from the bed and away from Liz. Dembe nodded to him as he passed, but Ressler found he could only offer a curt one of his own. Ressler followed Reddington to the living room and allowed himself to be directed to his own couch. His head was in his hands when Reddington next spoke to him.

 

“Answer me one question, Donald; are you using again?” Reddington's voice was filled with raw concern. Ressler raised his head to look the Criminal dead in the eye.

 

“No.” He stood and moved to the liquor cabinet, poured them both a generous measure of scotch before handing one of the glasses to Reddington. “I've been going to my meetings and I've been clean since Sitka. I didn't even know they were in there until a couple of weeks ago, but I was too preoccupied with everything else to think about throwing them out.”

 

“Good.” Relief was present as Reddington downed his drink. “I'd hate to think you were compromised. Lizzie wouldn't be able to live with herself if you'd reverted back to old habits because of this little situation we've all found ourselves in. She already hates herself for what she's putting you through.”

 

“It's not her fault.” Ressler downed his own drink and poured himself another, offering the bottle to Reddington. “I could have refused the position – but I didn't.”

 

“That may be true, but if you had, someone else would have been leading the chase and they sure as hell wouldn't have let her go as many times as you.”

 

Ressler stiffened. “She told you?”

 

Reddington chuckled. “No, I suspected, and you've just confirmed.”

 

Ressler laughed now; Reddington had set a trap and he'd stepped right in to it. He'd let Liz slip away before because he believed her innocent and he didn't want her punished for something she didn't do. He couldn't help going after her if they had a solid lead, but if it happened to be a face off between the two of them, he wasn't going to place her in cuffs. He slipped his newly poured drink much slower now, contemplating his next move; two of the FBIs most wanted were in his apartment and he had to decide what he was going to do about it. He couldn't bring them in, not now.

 

“I have to go back to the Blacksite, do the reports on today. You can stay as long as you need, but they might have people watching. If you leave before I get back...” He looked sadly in the direction of his bedroom. “Just let me know about the bullet.”

 

“Of course I will, Donald.” Reddington stood to place his glass on the end table. “I'll have her call you when she's up to it, and I'll have Mr Kaplan's team dispatched to deep clean your apartment.”

 

Ressler cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

 

He left Reddington in his living room and returned to the bedroom – he needed a change of clothes. Dembe raised his head when he entered, nodded and returned to checking on Liz. Ressler did a double take; she was no longer wearing her tattered jeans, but a pair of his own sweatpants that had previously been in the bottom draw of his dresser. She seemed to be resting more comfortably now but it didn't stop the wincing and whimpering every time she moved too much on her left. He knew that if he went over to her, he'd never leave, so instead of doing so he walked straight to his closet, chose a new suit and headed to the bathroom without looking back. He turned the shower on and stepped under the spray before it had even had the chance to heat, the cold jet of water sending his body in to a brief state of shock.

 

He used the time in the shower to reaffirm to himself that keeping their appearance at his apartment a secret was the right thing to do. It went against every thing the academy had taught him but he fully believed Liz didn't deserve to be locked in the damn box. He'd been standing in the shower for twenty minutes before he turned it off and stepped out, taking that mornings towel off the rail and wrapping it round his waist. There were no sounds coming from beyond the door but he thought nothing of it. He was ready to roll another twenty minutes later, but when he emerged fresh faced from the bathroom, he found the silence to be deafening. The three people that had been there when he'd gone to shower and change, were no longer there, and the only evidence of them having been there was the decent sized blood stain on his bedsheets.

 

* * *

 

The next time he saw Elizabeth Keen was six long months later, after her name had been officially cleared and the Cabal taken down. He hadn't seen her since he'd walked out his bedroom and left her laid out on his bed. Reddington had called him the next day to tell him the bullet he'd pulled form Liz's leg was _not_ his, but was in fact from the gun of his own contact, the one he'd been at the warehouse to meet. It was still unclear to Ressler whether or not Reddington believed it to intentional, but that didn't stop the man somehow dying while being transported to a federal courthouse. The last time he'd spoke to Liz herself, had been later that same day, when she'd told him she was about to have surgery on her leg, courtesy of the elusive Mr Kaplan – who Ressler had still yet to find out more about.

 

Now, though, Elizabeth Keen was standing before him, having just exited his bathroom wearing nothing but a towel. He didn't care that she'd picked the lock to his front door. He didn't care that she'd left a trail of her clothes that spanned almost the entire length of his apartment. He didn't care that he'd probably damaged his laptop by dropping the bag it was in on the floor at the sight of her. No, all he cared about was the fact that she was _here_. All he cared about was the fact that she was _safe_.

 

He didn't even realise she'd started moving until her arms had wrapped round him and her head had found his shoulder. His shirt was soon soaked from the wetness of her hair but it didn't bother him – he had her in his arms.

 

“I've missed you so much, Ress.” Her voice was soft as she spoke, and the breath that hit the exposed skin of his neck sent shivers down his spine.

 

“I've missed you to, Liz.”

 

He led their entwined bodies in to the living room and over to the couch and sat, with her taking the place on his lap. She curled in to him, resting a hand on his chest while he ran one of his up her thigh, only to freeze when he felt the rough edges of her barely healed scar.

 

She felt the movement cease. “It doesn't hurt much anymore. Itches sometimes, or becomes a little painful if I've but more strain on it.”

 

“I know the feeling.”

 

The silence returned until Liz became all too aware that she was almost completely naked sitting atop her former partner. “I should really put some clothes on.” She went to move off him, only to have him hold on tighter to her. “Or not.”

 

Ressler shifted them both so she was laying flat against the couch with him hovering over her. His hand was still on her thigh but he soon moved it up to rest against her hip under the towel. His face was mere inches from hers when he whispered, “I'm gonna do something that I should have done months ago.”

 

“Okay,” she breathed.

 

He leaned forward and kissed her. It started off slow and gentle but the low moan escaping Liz's lips quickened the pace. She slipped her hands in his hair, pulling him further down to her as she lifted her hips to meet him. Ressler was just seconds away from unfastening the knot in her towel when they heard his front door open and someone step inside.

 

The reaction from both of them was instantaneous.

 

They jolted in to a standing position, both reaching for guns at their sides which weren't there. Ressler moved to stand in front of Liz, preparing to protect her from the oncoming threat but the two of them found themselves on the verge of relaxing when they heard a couple of familiar voices filter through from the hallway.

 

“I did warn you, Raymond, she was not to be messed with.”

 

“Yes, well, she was wearing blue. You know I can't resist a woman in blue!”

 

Ressler turned to look at Liz but she shrugged her shoulders, hitching the towel a little higher over her chest. The two men entered the living room, stopoing in the doorway when they caught site of Liz and Ressler. Dembe averted his eyes and maintained his default emotionless expression, while it was clear Reddington was trying his hardest not to laugh.

 

“I do apologise for the intrusion, did we interrupt something?”

 

“Yes.” Ressler growled whilst Liz shot the criminal a look before retreating to the bedroom.

 

“Yes, well, certain matters take precedence.” Reddington winced slightly in pain.

 

“Oh?” Ressler was intrigued now.

 

“Yes.” He raised his arm just as Liz walked back in to the room, wearing more than just a towel now. “I am, once again, in need of your first aid kit.”

 

Ressler stared at the criminal, barely registering Liz's screech of “Oh my God, are they _nails_?” He reached in to his pocket, grabbed his car keys and tossed them to Dembe.

 

“Still in the trunk of your car? Really, Donald, did we not discuss this last time I was here?”

 

Liz had led Reddington to the couch and was now sitting next to him. Ressler bent down to whisper in her ear. “Do I get to meet Mr Kaplan now?”

 

He really wanted to meet the human first aid kit.

 


End file.
